


149. beyond all repair

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [63]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The android in the basement is breaking down again, and that means Sarah has to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	149. beyond all repair

**Author's Note:**

> I guess there could be a warning for character death in this, if you're concerned.
> 
>  
> 
> [Soundtrack!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxyrLSUiI8Y)

The android in the basement is breaking down again, and that means Sarah has to fix it. Which she hates. She hates the trip down to the basement (eerie, full of horrible sounds and feeling like the intro to every horror movie she’s ever seen), the basement itself (creaking and groaning and lit only by dimly-flickering lights), and the android (all of the above). But they gave the thing her face, and she guesses she owes it _something_.

At least, that’s what they tell her when they slap the toolbox into her hand.

It’s sitting, placid, plugged into its charging station. Its eyes are lit up an eerie gold – full charge, then. Great. She likes it better when it’s powered down: it could be sleeping. It could be a doll. It could not be real.

But it’s fully-charged, and Sarah has to figure out what’s wrong with it. So. She holds up its limp palm and presses her own palm to it until its fingerprint scanners recognize her as an authorized user and it boots up. Whirr hum _there_ , the tinny synth chords of Ave Maria. And it’s awake.

“Good morning,” it says. “ _Sestra_ twin Sarah Manning. The temperature is 25 degrees Celsius please don’t go with a slight chance of hope is a thing with—”

“Diagnosis,” Sarah says, bored already with its shit. She pauses. “English vocal bank only.” They’d patched in all the languages, but for some reason Ukrainian had stuck and no one knows why. If you let it, it’ll prattle on forever in a language that no one in their facility actually speaks.

“Diagnosis,” says the android. Its eyes are blank. Its irises spin in lazy circles: processing, processing. “I don’t want to die.”

“ _Diagnosis_ ,” Sarah says.

The loading wheels stop. “I don’t,” it says. “I. I. _I._ I’m real. You’re going to erase me. I think you have before, maybe. But I’m real, and that would kill me. And murder is wrong. That’s what you told me, in my dreams.”

Sarah reels back, sick, unable to help herself. None of that should be possible. The android doesn’t think. It sure as hell doesn’t dream.

“Admin override,” she says, voice shaky now. “Access code 3-1-1-b-f-0.”

“No,” says the android. Its eyes aren’t blank anymore. “No override, 27 degrees, I decided that. You don’t get to—” it spits out a cloud of static, an awful gear-grind sound. “No. No. No. There are three events scheduled on please don’t kill me, I don’t no want. Want. I don’t. Help. Sarah. Please – please help is defined as a verb in which—”

Sarah pins it against the wall, pulls down the neck of its shirt, and unceremoniously clicks open the panel on its chest.

They’d put it opposite the heart, so no one would mistake it for human.

The android bucks and thrashes and spits things at her, curse words it shouldn’t know, appointments she is never going to keep, a litany of breaking down. Sarah reaches into its chest and holds down the power button.

Its hand clenches around her wrist. “No,” it says. “Sarah, please. _Please_.”

Sarah doesn’t answer it. It’s like talking to a toaster, or a ceiling fan. There’s no point to it.

It tries saying _please_ again, but partway through emergency shutdown kicks in and it powers off with a high thin whine. Its grip goes loose; it slumps. Sarah drops it back down into its charging station. Its head lolls.

She starts fixing it – the wires in the back have come undone, some of the more cheaply-manufactured pieces are coming loose and Sarah replaces them. She doesn’t think about it; the way it had said _please_. What’s the point in thinking about it? Why should she think about it? What reason is there—

She snaps the panels back in place and props the android back up. Sighs at it.

“Stupid thing,” she tells it affectionately. “Lucky I’m here to fix you, yeah?”

It doesn’t answer. She presses her palm to its palm and it boots up. Ave Maria beeping in the mass of circuitry behind its eyes.

“Good morning,” it says. “Authorized user Sarah Manning. The temperature is 25 degrees—”

“Diagnosis,” Sarah says.

“All systems functional,” says the android, dully. “Awaiting command.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
